


Sick Days

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ward refuses to admit he's sick. Melinda refuses to let him go untreated. But it takes some prodding from everyone else on the Bus before they can get to that point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Days

**Author's Note:**

> I was grossly, hideously sick for all last week and a few days, so I wrote sickfic. Also because Ward whimpering in pain and being sick appeals to me. If I like you, you're gonna suffer for it. Sorry, sweetheart.  
> Anyway, if you're bothered by vomit, there's a bit of puking, so keep it in mind! And a general warning for anxiety, because Ward's a mess.  
> And this fic actually deals with some of my backstory for Melinda; I'll probably lay it out in a larger fic later on, but I hope this is still interesting. Enjoy, folks!

It started with a little cough; something Ward could conceal without much effort without calling a lot of attention to it. His throat started to burn more and more after every cough, but he didn’t mind; it was no big deal. Just a cough. They passed.

“ _Ward? Are you all right_?” Jemma asked him over the comms once during a mission. “ _You keep coughing, and it’s showing up on the communicator’s systems.”_

“Ah, allergies,” Ward said with a shrug, looking around the jungle they’d found themselves in. “Nothing too bad, Jemma. I promise, I’m okay.”

“ _All right, if you’re sure. I’ll get some antibiotics together for you nonetheless, understood?”_

Ward smiled and nodded, going to deal with the mission without another word on the subject. He attended the debriefing and then left for his bedroom, climbing into bed and laying down with a content little sigh.

Jemma didn’t need to fuss so much, he told himself as he cuddled his pillow and closed his eyes. Really, he was going to be fine. There was no need to worry about him. Not at all. And that was just perfect.

He coughed for a few minutes and shivered a little bit before he closed his eyes and fell asleep, drifting off into an uneasy rest.

…

The next day, he woke up with a runny nose. It wasn’t much of a problem; he stuffed some tissues in his pocket and worked on training downstairs, stopping to cough and wipe his nose off every so often. He blew into a tissue and winced, balling it up and tossing it in the trash before going back to work, his fists pounding into the punching bag in a repetitive, harsh rhythm.

“Hey, Alpha 5!”

Ward started and smacked his fist into the bag, wincing in pain as Skye bounded up to him, giving him an odd look, head cocked.

“What the hell is an ‘Alpha 5?’” Ward asked, wrinkling his nose. Skye snorted.

“You never watched Power Rangers? Whatever,” she said. “You look sniffly. Howcome you’re working? Jemmy told you to take antibiotics.”

“Oh, Jemmy, is it?” Ward retorted. Skye gave him a filthy look.

“Look, I don’t want a sick SO—“

“ _I’m fine,”_ Ward said firmly, flinching when she wilted. He sighed.

“Look, seriously, I’m all right,” he promised. “I don’t get sick.”

“You know I don’t actually believe you’re a robot, right?” Skye said, raising her eyebrows. “A huge stupid idiot, definitely, but not a robot.”

“I don’t get sick,” he repeated. “Not ever. Don’t worry about me. Now, are you here to complain or are you here to practice?”

Skye sighed, pulling on a pair of gloves and settling into her stance beside him. Ward wiped his nose and sniffled before shaking his head and going through the routine.

…

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” Skye grumbled, sitting on Fitz’s desk. The engineer pressed an idle kiss into her thigh before settling his head on her lap, taking occasional glances over to his notes.

“He’s sick, then?” Fitz said. “Like, really sick?”

“No, I don’t…maybe? He looked sniffly and stuff,” Skye said.

“‘Sniffly and stuff’ doesn’t help me, darling,” Jemma said with a frown, picking up a bottle of pills. “Do you think you could sedate him subtly and slip these into his pocket?”

“Jemma, I’m not knocking him out to give him medicine, that’s stupid,” Skye said.

“That’s what doctors do all the time, dear,” Fitz said. Skye snorted.

“Okay, yeah, but not by like, fake-out punching them during sparring,” Skye retorted. “That’s probably malpractice. I figure.”

“At any rate…” Jemma sighed. “Maybe it is just a bit of the sniffles. Let him be for a few days, and we’ll see if something’s really the matter. If it is, I’ll sedate him as long as you hold him down.”

“Christ,” Skye said with a laugh, letting Jemma kiss her forehead. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep an eye on our precious little Hal 9000.”

“You’ve got to stop calling him a robot,” Fitz said with a little yawn.

“When it stops being funny,” Skye promised, taking out her tablet and pulling up a game as Fitz and Jemma worked.

The three of them started when Ward entered abruptly, almost an hour later, and looked around, rubbing at his eyes.

“Are you all right, dear?” Jemma asked, shooting Skye a look. Skye rolled her eyes. Ward sniffled.

“M’fine,” he said. “Dunno what Skye told you, but I promise, I don’t get sick. Not ever. Not a little bit.”

“Okay, Grant dear, I believe you,” Jemma said soothingly. “What’s the matter?”

“Was looking for Phil,” Ward said. “Have a question. But, uh—can’t find him, so maybe you could answer?”

“What’s up, Agent Tightpants?” Skye asked. Fitz gave her a look. She rolled her eyes. “Did I call him a robot? No? Hush.”

Ward rubbed at his eyes again and shivered. “Sorry. Just wanted to know where Melinda was. She’s not in the cockpit.”

“Oh, I think she had something to take care of,” Skye said. “Phil said we were gonna go pick her up in a few days down in Hong Kong. You going to be okay ‘til then?”

“I’m not gonna die without Melinda May on board,” Ward grumbled. “It was just a question.”

“Your bleeding heart says otherwise,” Skye teased. “C’mon, you two work well together. Real power couple.”

Ward muttered something rude in Arabic and turned around, heading for the door.

“Ward! Grant, dear, the antibiotics—“

“Don’t need ‘em, Jemmy,” Ward said, waving her off. “Gonna go take a nap.”

“Oh, so _I_ can’t call her Jemmy, but _you_ can?” Skye yelled back at him. “What if I started calling Melinda sappy nicknames? What then?”

Ward yelled something back in a language none of them spoke before they heard a door close. Jemma huffed and smiled, kissing the top of Skye’s head.

“You can call me Jemmy, darling,” she promised. “Are you worried about Ward?”

“A lot, yeah,” Skye said. “I feel like this is stupid ‘traumatic childhood’ junk coming back to bite him in the ass. And without Melinda…I dunno. Phil could make him do stuff, maybe.”

“Definitely,” Fitz said. “We just need to let dad know there’s a problem.”

“He really is, isn’t he?” Jemma said with a laugh. “Mom and dad. How silly.”

“Isn’t silly,” Skye protested. “They make a really good mom and dad. When they’re not being freaky dangerous black-ops agents.”

“Which, granted, is most of the time,” Fitz said with a yawn. “He was asking after her, though. That’s…oddly precious, coming from him.”

“Yeah, he’s head over heels,” Skye said with a grin. “Give it a few days. Watch, she’ll come back and he’ll act like he was never sick at all, you’ll see.”

“I hope he actually isn’t,” Jemma said. “He can be stubborn and ridiculous and overprotective sometimes…but right now, apart from Phil, he’s the only one of us who’s good at proper combat. I’m a little concerned about what might happen if the Bus gets attacked.”

“We’ll be fine,” Skye promised, stroking her hair. “No worries, Jemma. Want me to go put the antibiotics on his nightstand while you and Leo get some work done?”

“Mm? Yes, please do darling, it’d be appreciated,” Jemma said with a fond smile. “You run along and get that done then, please?”

Skye nodded, grabbing the antibiotic bottle and pocketing it. As she went to leave the room, Jemma grabbed her wrist and kissed her cheek.

“And come back after, won’t you, love?” she murmured, kissing her neck. Skye shivered and smiled.

“I will,” she promised, getting dressed quickly and letting Fitz grasp her wrist and kiss it on her way out.

…

Ward yawned and shivered in his bed, his stomach cramping and his body aching. He rolled over and tried to hug his spare pillow against his stomach, but all did was make him more nauseous.

“Ward?” a voice came from the doorway. Ward moaned in pain, rolling over.

“Go away,” he mumbled. “Lemme sleep, please. M’so tired.”

“Ward, you’ve slept for eighteen hours,” Phil Coulson said, his voice gentle as he entered Ward’s room, leaving the light on. “We’ve got another six hours until we hit Hong Kong. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Ward said. “I don’t get sick, Phil. I don’t get sick at all. Never ever. I’m okay. I’m okay, promise. I’m fine.”

He groaned softly and pushed his face into the pillow. “I’m okay.”

Phil sat down on the bed next to him and rubbed his back gently. “I see. Do you want some tissues?”

“No,” Ward said, sniffling. Phil just left a pack on his night stand and sighed.

“Listen, Ward, I know things have been rough for you the past few days,” he said, “but don’t worry. Melinda’s coming home soon.”

“Why does everyone think I care about that?” Ward grumbled. “Because I don’t. She has her own business, her own life. Maybe she even went to see a boyfriend.”

He coughed until he retched, hugging his pillow. “Oh, Phil. I’ve been training really hard the past few days. Working good. Skye’s getting a lot better. Can I take an extra nap?”

Phil resisted the urge to sigh as he pulled the covers up tighter around Ward and stroked his hair away from his forehead, taking the chance to check his temperature as well. “Of course you can, Grant. You’ve done a good job lately, like you always do. Take a nap.”

“Thank you,” Ward said, closing his eyes and sighing softly as Phil got up and went for the door.

“Phil?”

“Yes, Grant?” Phil said, turning to look at him. He was curled tightly in on himself, shivering so badly Phil could see the blankets shifting above him.

“Melinda doesn’t really have a boyfriend, does she?” he asked, his voice soft and almost childlike. Phil resisted the urge to smile. It would just confuse him.

“No, she doesn’t,” he promised. “Go to bed, Grant. You need your rest.”

Ward nodded, numb and half-asleep even as he waved Phil off. Phil sighed and smiled, shaking his head as he left Ward’s bedroom and bumped into Leo, Jemma, and Skye standing right outside the door, wide-eyed with worry.

He shut the door and smiled. “He’s sick as a dog, exactly like you said.”

“I knew it,” Jemma said. “I thought he might just be busy, but certainly not for eighteen hours! I mean, my god!”

“He’s in a lot of pain right now,” Phil said gently. “Let him be. He’s scared of admitting he’s sick for reasons I admit I don’t understand…but letting him be is all we can do.”

“Oh, come on, AC, that’s not fair,” Skye said. “We can’t just let him get sicker and sicker!”

“Oh, he won’t,” Phil said. “Give it another few hours.”

“He might have the flu,” Jemma said with a frown. “I’d have to take his temperature to tell, but he looked like he was positively burning up. We can’t wait—“

“We can,” Phil said. “Because we’re not the ones he wants to help him.”

“But then what are we gonna do? Call the Helicarrier and dump him off on them in the med bay?” Skye said, wrinkling his nose.

“No,” Phil said with a little chuckle. “We’re going to leave him for Melinda.”

There was a collective shudder among the trio before they nodded.

“It’s all for the best, really,” Jemma said with a little laugh.

“He’s gonna be in _so much trouble_ ,” Skye said, bordering on gleeful. “Think she’ll spank him?”

“Don’t be crude!” Jemma said, her face pink. “If she could just make him take those antibiotics—god, I’ll get a shot together, at least to make the vomiting and nausea stop, it’s better if he runs the fever, it’ll break quicker…”

She went back towards the lab with a few conspiratorial little mutters. Fitz and Skye looked up at Phil, eyes bright and hopeful.

“Hey, AC, you feel like teaching us how to fly this thing?” Skye asked. Phil exhaled through his teeth.

“About as much as I feel like causing a catastrophe,” he said. “But you can observe while I fly. Take notes.”

“I hate taking notes,” Skye grumbled, but she hooked her arm in Fitz’s and followed after Phil anyway.

…

Ward felt the plane touch down and moaned in pain, tears running down his face. This was stupid. He had to get it together. Melinda was coming back. He had to be fine. He wasn’t sick. He’d show them. He’d show them all.

Ward went to get up out of bed and couldn’t move his arms. He tried to roll over and winced in pain, his chest burning with agony.

Ward tried to get up a third time and simply fell out of bed, hitting the floor with all his blankets. The shock reverberated through his entire body and made him shudder and moan in pain before he started to cry, pain making even his tears burn.

Phil came in without so much as a knock and sighed, shaking his head and picking the bundle of blankets up off the floor and settling Ward back on the bed.

“ _I’m not sick,”_ Ward cried, his voice a scratchy, agonizing rasp.

“Okay, Ward, I know,” Phil said soothingly, patting his back. “Come on, just lie down. I brought you breakfast.”

“Coffee?” Ward said, perking his head up.

“Fitz is working on the machine right now, it just broke,” Phil lied smoothly, setting down the tea and toast—and some of Jemma’s antibiotics, crushed into the tea along with the sugar. “Jemma sent down some of her tea in apology.”

“Never had tea, but mm’kay,” Ward agreed, laying back down. “I’ll eat later. Are we in Hong Kong?”

“Yes, we are,” Phil said. “I’ll go get Melinda. It’s okay.”

“I wanted to come,” Ward said, a frown harrowing his features. Phil nodded and rubbed his back.

“I know you did, but it’s okay,” he said. “I can go get Melinda. You protect the kids.”

“Yeah,” Ward said, his eyes lighting up a little as he rolled over to face the door. “I will. I’ll be here for them. Nothing’s going to hurt them, Phil. Not as long as I’m here, okay?”

Phil sighed and stood up. “Of course, Ward. I won’t be long. Don’t worry.”

“I won’t,” Ward promised. “Take care of Melinda though, okay?”

Phil tucked the blankets tighter around him and nodded. “Of course. I’ll be back in an hour, tops.”

“Okay,” Ward promised. “I’ll come say hi. Greet you guys, I mean. Make sure everything got back safe.”

Phil nodded. _If you can get out of bed, kiddo._

He shook off the thought and tried not to smile, giving Ward a new pillow and holding the other one at arm’s length. “Drink your tea, all right? I’ll be back soon.”

“Bye, Phil,” Ward mumbled, yawning widely. “I will.”

He was wrinkling his nose and dutifully sipping away at it when Phil left. He had barely made it down the hall before he could hear a few heavy, mechanical thuds and muttered apologies.

Phil sighed and rounded the corner, looking at Jemma, Fitz, and Skye, all three of them holding various mechanical implements and grinning up at him.

“What did you do?” he asked. Jemma shook her head.

“Ah, no, Coulson, it’s what we haven’t done,” she said. “Yet. We’re just…going to go keep Ward company while you go get Melinda.”

“Well, okay, but what on earth is all this?” Phil said, regarding the monitors and computers with a raised brow. Jemma beamed.

“Work,” she said.

Phil just let it drop, shaking his head. “You’re too good to him, sometimes. That’s good. He needs people like that. Oh, and Fitz?”

“Yes, sir?” Leo asked, head cocked. Phil tried not to smile and mostly succeeded.

“He thinks you were fixing the coffee machine,” he said. “As far as you’re concerned, you did and it needs to reboot for the next twenty-four hours. Understood?”

“Oh! Ah…certainly, sir,” Fitz said. “Be careful out there in Hong Kong, okay? Who knows what trouble Melinda got up to?”

“Oh, I will,” Phil said. “You three be careful. And Jemma, try not to stick him with an IV needle while he’s conscious.”

“Yes, sir!” Jemma said, beaming.

Phil just shook his head and left, Skye waving him off and yelling, “Bring back souvenirs, AC!”

…

Phil made his way through the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong without anyone sparing him a second glance; his simple suit and briefcase gave the impression of a businessman on the way to a meeting, and so no one bothered him.

Phil rounded corners and turned through alleyway after alleyway until he came across a series of cheap, flickering neon lights. Dirt and grime clung to the bulbs, but they shone in shades of cheery pink, red, and green nonetheless.

He slung the briefcase over his shoulder and continued down the path; the stones beneath his feet started to echo like plastic as he turned a final corner and stood in front of an enormous wooden gate, painted in shades of gold and red and done up like it stood before the palaces, not a small, crumbling house.

“You have an apartment,” Phil said as he came in through the gate. “I know you do. But you bought this place and stay here every time you want leave because…?”

Melinda sat atop a pile of crumbling grey stones, legs crossed and eyes closed. She exhaled and shook her head.

“Because someone’s got to feed the fish,” she said, gesturing to the koi pond that spread out before her; one of the few genuinely pristine things in the entire front yard. “I have a few kids come by and feed them when I’m not here, but it’s nice to take care of your own things from time to time.”

“Even so,” Phil said. “I wouldn’t think you could live in a restaurant.”

“Former,” she corrected him. “And no, not really. But I’m not coming here for that kind of comfort.”

“Right,” Phil said, gesturing to the ground beside her. She beckoned him over and he settled in, looking down at the fish. “You doing all right, Melinda?”

“Mm? Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. I haven’t been here in a year or two is all, and with field work…I felt like coming back here wasn’t a half bad idea. Just to get a feel for the place again. It might be the last time I visit.”

“I doubt it, but all right,” Phil agreed. “As long as you’re fine, Melinda.”

“You fuss,” she said with a little smile. “It’s just nice to come home. This was actually a good place for me, unlike most of our ilk.”

“I can relate,” Phil replied. “It might look a little run down, but that’s not the point, is it?”

“No,” Melinda agreed. “It isn’t.”

She stood up and stretched out. “It’s funny. Listening to the talk around town, it used to be about what a good place this was to eat. At least, among the tourists. Now they all just talk about how it’s haunted.”

“The older things get, the most ghosts they tend to accrue,” Phil said, getting up with a wince, his scar throbbing. “It’s the nature of the beast, I think.”

“Even so,” Melinda said. “Could you have imagined what my parents would say if people thought this place was haunted?”

She smiled, weak and vague and full of tears. “God. They’d have probably tried to turn it into an attraction of some kind. Anything to make sure their daughter had enough money to go places.”

She looked back at the koi fish. “There’s only seven left. But that’s lucky, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Phil agreed. “Melinda? Are you genuinely, truly, honest to god sure you’re okay? Because I’ve had it up to my neck with people telling me they’re fine when they’re not.”

“I’m fine,” she promised. “Truly, honestly fine. I burned some incense and said a few prayers for my mother and father, and let them know I was fine. That’s all I came here to do. That…and feed the fish.”

Phil would’ve hugged her had they been twenty years younger; he would have kissed her hair and whispered apologies in her ear while she cried it out on his shoulder.

But the two of them stood among ashes, old ghosts themselves, and he did not so much as take her hand.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “The fish will live. Goldfish are stubborn bastards.”

“Aren’t we all,” she said with a little rough laugh. Phil managed to smile.

“A bit,” he said. “Serves you well in this line of work.”

He let her go inside and pack her things; she came out minutes later with a simple cloth bag. Phil raised an eyebrow.

“I know this isn’t the best place to try to live in, but honestly,” he said. “At least an air mattress.”

“I know all my old haunts,” Melinda said. “God knows I didn’t sleep here. I’d keep waking up and expecting to be told to check the skillets.”

The two of them shared a fond, secret little smile before Phil sighed and let her lead the way out. He allowed her one last look back before the two of them slipped into the crowd.

“I don’t know what the best time to tell you this would be,” Phil said, “but, ah, we’re ten minutes away from where we landed, so I might as well…”

She snapped to attention and surveyed him with a sharp, stern look. Phil would’ve smiled if she wouldn’t have taken it as a grievous insult. Despite herself, she worried, and he knew it.

“Ward’s sick,” he said. “Really, really sick. I mean, ‘can’t get out of bed’ sick. Jemma’s been trying to stick him full of needles for days now.”

Melinda was quiet for a few minutes as they made their way through the crowds.

“And you didn’t tell me?” she said, her voice sharp. Phil held up his hands.

“Well,” he said, “I didn’t think it would matter. I didn’t think you’d be so concerned—“

“Shut the hell up, you knew _damn well_ I’d be concerned, that stupid _idiot_ —“

“Oh, well then I guess you’re concerned,” Phil said, matching her pace, which had started to part people in their way as she blazed through the crowd and stormed towards base. “I didn’t think it would bother you so much, after all, he can take care of himself—“

“You know damn well he can’t!” Melinda snapped. “Combat isn’t like illness, and Grant—“

“Grant?” Phil said, a smile spreading across his face as they reached the base.

“I still have my gun,” Melinda snarled at him, storming her way through the S.H.I.E.L.D. offices. Phil just beamed and shook his head as they reached the hangar.

“Idiot,” she muttered. “Idiot, _idiot_ , complete stupid— _you’re_ an idiot too, Coulson!”

“What did _I_ do? It’s not like _you’ve_ been so forthcoming with your apparent affection for him!” Phil retorted.

“Oh, you know me _better than that_ , don’t you _dare_ pull that trick with _me—_ “

A wet, pained little cough reached their ears and both of them stopped in their tracks in front of the Bus. Ward stood at the top of the loading ramp, waving vaguely at them. Skye and Jemma supported him on either side as Fitz sighed and made his way down to greet them.

“Sorry, he insisted,” he said. “He said he wanted to let you know we were okay.”

Phil sighed and muttered something impolite under his breath as Melinda watched Ward, completely silent.

“The poor dear,” she murmured, her voice a little coo that made both Phil and Leo shiver. She made her way up the ramp and stood before him, head cocked slightly and a smile on her face.

Ward beamed, wiping his nose and straightening himself up with a wince of pain. Melinda just smiled.

“Welcome back, Agent May,” he said, his tone thick with mucus. “It’s good to see you. How was your, ah, mission?”

“It went smoothly,” she said. “I’ve got a bit of excess steam I need to work off, though. Mind joining me down in the gym?”

Jemma, Leo, and Skye gave her wide-eyed looks, jaw agape. Phil shot her a sharp look; Melinda shrugged him off and gave him a sharp look back.

“Come on, Grant,” she said to him. “Are you up to it?”

“He most certainly is _not—“_

“You called me Grant,” he said, his tone awed and soft and his eyes bright as he looked at her. “Wow. Okay. Sure, anything you want.”

“Agent May, what the _hell,”_ Jemma said, before she could stop and think about the logistics of cursing at a superior officer. “You can’t have him! He’s ill, he needs to rest, not—“

“I know what I’m doing,” Melinda replied. “Come on, Ward. Unless you’d rather stay with Jemma and Skye?”

“I’m not sick,” Ward promised, shooting Jemma a look. “I’m not, honest. We can go.”

“Good,” Melinda said, taking him by the arm and leading him off.

There was silence for a second before everyone on the team practically exploded at Phil.

“What the hell does she think she’s doing?” Jemma shouted over Leo and Skye. “He’s a god damn _wreck_ right now, and she just _marches back on the Bus_ and takes him bloody _sparring!_ I ought to poison her tea, or, or—“

“Whoa, slow down there, princess, you’re starting to sound a little terrifying for once in your life,” Skye said. “Look, Melinda’s got her shit together, okay? Ward’s fine. Whatever she’s doing with him, she’s doing it with him in mind, promise. I’m sure she’s got a plan, right, AC?”

“I have no idea what the hell she’s doing,” Phil said, rubbing his temples. “Then again, that’s my default when it comes to Melinda.”

The trio cringed.

“Well, ah…I could go pull up the cams in the gym. Make sure he’s all right?” Fitz offered.

“Normally I’d be against surveillance of the team, but I’m not entirely sure Jemma wouldn’t do something rash if we didn’t, so let’s,” Phil agreed. “I’m surprised, Jemma.”

“He’s my patient,” she snapped. “He’s an idiot, but he’s my patient. And if she thinks she can beat the sickness out of him, she can bloody well think again—“

“I doubt that’s what she’s doing,” Phil said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Jemma, breathe. Melinda was worried, I promise. She ran the whole way back here once I told her Ward was sick.”

“She did?” Leo said, brows raised. Phil chuckled.

“Yeah,” he said. “Managed to yell at me the whole way back, too. Evidently I should’ve told her before.”

“What would she have been able to do from Hong Kong?” Skye said, wrinkling her nose. Phil laughed.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Phil said, making his way up onto the ship, the three of them following him down into the lab to watch whatever was going down in the gym.

…

Melinda sighed and settled into her stance, watching Ward from across the mat. He held his hands up and tried to steady his breathing, like she wouldn’t notice him sucking in his gut at the pain.

“Okay,” she said. “Ready? Show me what you’ve picked up in training.”

Ward swung a fist at her and she dodged it easily, countering with an effortless twist of his hand, twirling him around so his back was bared to her. She kneed his back gently and he groaned, turning around and taking a swipe at her like he was moving through molasses.

Melinda grabbed his wrist and bent it down, making him kneel. Ward shivered in pain on the floor as she nudged him teasingly.

“C’mon, Grant,” she said. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“No,” Grant said, before he heaved and vomited, puking onto the mat.

Melinda knelt down beside him and rubbed his back, listening to his thin, reedy little cries as he purged the rest of the bile from his stomach.

“Okay,” Grant said after a moment’s pause. “I feel better now. We can—“

“Grant.”

He flinched and shivered, shaking his head. “Melinda, I’m sorry, honest, please, we can—come on, don’t be mad—“

“I’m not,” she said. “You’re fine. You’re sick as a dog, and one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, but I’m not mad at you.”

 _“I’m not sick_ ,” Ward wailed, his voice breaking. “I _can’t_ be sick. Who’s going to keep an eye on everyone if I’m sick? What if they’re in danger?”

“Then Phil and I will handle it,” Melinda said firmly. “Trust me, Ward. I know you do. I know you trust me, so prove it. Get up and come lie down.”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he leaned into her shoulder with a careful, slow nod. “Okay.”

She helped him to his feet and towards the door, letting him lean on her as he sighed and shivered. “Melinda?”

“Yes, Grant?” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it tight. It felt warm and broad, even when it was slick with fever.

“I think I threw up,” he mumbled. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You did,” she said. “It’s okay. Short of puking your guts out, I knew you would never believe you were sick.”

She stroked his hair and helped him down the hall and into his bedroom; she ushered him into the bathroom with a simple order, “Shower and scrub down.”

Ward left the door open as she stripped the bedsheets and tossed the blankets outside into the hall, letting her hear his soft little moans and whimpers of pleasure as he stood under the hot water and washed himself off.

If she had been a little less sensible, she would’ve gone in there and joined him. Thankfully, a few hacking coughs shortly after told her why that was a bad idea.

Melinda smiled and re-sheeted the bed, putting blankets on it, and changing the pillows after a moment of consideration. She went to go throw all of it down in the wash, opening the door as Ward groaned.

“Grant? Is something wrong?” she called.

“Don’t go,” he begged. “You just got back. Melinda, please don’t go…”

“I’m just going to throw all of this in the laundry and get you what you need from Jemma,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

“Aw, don’t let her in here, she’ll stick me full of needles and tell me I was stupid,” Ward grumbled. “I was just trying to keep her safe, Melinda. I really was.”

Melinda smiled and shook her head. “I know, puppy.”

“I’m not a puppy,” Ward protested. “I’d be much bigger. Scary bulldog, big Great Dane or something.”

“Puppy it is,” Melinda said with a little chuckle as Ward whined in protest. She carried the bedsheets out and down into the laundry room, chucking them in and setting the cycle on before going down to the lab.

Jemma, Leo, and Skye waited for her there; Jemma had an apologetic smile on her face as she wrung her hands.

“Don’t feel bad,” Melinda told her. “You were worried. I want you to understand that’s why he did what he did; because he feels the same worry over you three. I know it can be frustrating, but he wants to take care of all of you. And that means he can’t let you think he’s weak.”

“Does he want to take care of you?” Skye asked. Melinda raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “He better not. I certainly don’t need it. But…we’ll talk. And we’ll see.”

“Super,” Skye said, giving her a smile that held nothing good. Melinda sighed.

“Even so, I am sorry,” Jemma said. “I should’ve trusted you. It’s just—oh, I knew he was trying to brush it off like it was nothing because of us, and I worried, Melinda! We want to help him too, we don’t want him to get hurt!”

“Then you’ll have to be subtle for now,” Melinda replied. “I know it’s hard, but it’s hard for Grant, too. If he ever gets over the issues that make him hypervigilant—which, honestly, is hard to see happening, especially considering our line of work—then maybe it’ll be different. But he can’t help that. You three can be subtle. Take care of him, sure, but remember you have to work with him on that front a bit.”

“Meet him halfway,” Fitz said. “Right. I think we can do that. How about you and Phil?”

“I suppose we’ll handle it when issues arise,” she said carefully. The trio’s eyes had started to take on a gossipy gleam. “Jemma, do you have anything for him?”

“Oh, right,” she said. “Make him take these damn antibiotics before I smack him, first…”

She pressed a bottle into Melinda’s hand with a huff. “Those, and then let me see…can you administer shots?”

“I don’t think he likes needles,” Melinda said, trying not to smile. Jemma sighed.

“Well, a high dose of antivirals might help _something,_ though he should’ve been taking shots before,” she grumbled. “It’s better than nothing, at least…”

She gestured for Melinda to sit. “And if you’re going to sit with him, you need an antiviral shot too.”

“What?” she said, wrinkling her nose. Jemma smiled.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared of needles too?” Jemma teased. Melinda rolled her eyes.

“No, I’m not, but that’s not the point,” she said. “What makes you think I’m staying?”

“Oh, come on, don’t be daft,” Jemma said. “There’s no reason to lie to us, Melinda. Just take the shot. We all have already, just so we don’t get sick from being around him. Come on, sit, sit.”

Melinda sighed and sat on the exam table, taking off her jacket and rolling up her sleeve. Jemma swabbed her shoulder with rubbing alcohol and injected the needle; Melinda barely twitched as Jemma pushed the plunger in.

“There we go,” she said with a huge smile. “You can go see to him now. Make him take those antibiotics twice a day, and with some tea if he can keep it down. Make it green, actually, with honey. Vitamin C is important.”

“I can do that,” Melinda said. “If he needs anything, I’ll come to you three. Don’t worry.”

Jemma nodded and smiled. “Truthfully, the best thing for him, I think, is that you came back.”

“Is that so?” Melinda said, raising her eyebrows. Jemma nodded.

“Well, he was, ah…he was asking after you,” she said. “When he was sick, he was asking after you. He really wanted you to come home, Melinda.”

“Is this home?” Melinda asked, folding her arms over her chest. Jemma shrugged.

“Well, for us it is,” she said. “And for him, I think, too. I don’t know about you, Melinda, but it’s your choice to make, isn’t it?”

She rubbed her temples and thought only of the cheap wooden temple signs, the paint still stubbornly clinging to the ghosts of the blackened, burnt past.

The fish still swam in her thoughts as she shook her head and left with a quiet thank-you.

“Everyone on this plane is messed up,” Skye said after making sure she was out of earshot. “Us included.”

“Well, I didn’t think we were being left out,” Jemma said with a smile, kissing the top of her head. “But at least the three of us can be happy. As for the two of them…well, only god knows, I suppose.”

“You haven’t been to church since you were twelve,” Fitz said with a snort. Jemma glared at him.

“That’s hardly the point, is it?” she snapped before sighing. “God, I really do just hope they’ll be okay…”

…

Melinda entered the room with a tray, carrying the bowl from the kitchen. She put the enormous plastic bowl beside his bed and set the tray down on the nightstand. Ward had already put the garbage can beside his bed; Melinda smiled and took it out, setting it outside the door and pressing the pills into his hand.

“I managed to talk Jemma out of a shot,” she said. “But she said take these with some green tea or she’d kill you.”

“Mm?” Ward mumbled. “Okay. You made the tea?”

“I did,” she said, helping him sit up before putting a cup in his hands. “Drink, I promise. It’s not poison.”

“I know,” Ward said. “I just didn’t think you cooked. That’s neat.”

He took the pills she proffered him and swallowed before taking a dutiful sip of the tea and humming.

“It’s…really good,” he breathed. “Wow, Melinda!”

“My parents used to run a restaurant in Hong Kong,” she said. “One of those tourist trap places. They were trying to make enough money to send me to university while I played pool in bars and got into fights with strangers.”

Ward said nothing, letting her talk. Melinda sighed and took a sip of her own tea. “I happened to pick a fight with a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent one night. He liked my style; offered to extend an invitation to me to train at the academy. It would’ve been a weight off my parents’ shoulders…and I thought I was old enough to understand what a burden I was.”

She rubbed her temples. “I left the next night. I made sure everything was ready to open the store, and…and I told them I loved them, and I left.”

She laughed, sharp and low and trembling, like a glass on the verge of shattering. “I don’t think I was old enough to realize the truth. I was never their burden. But—but it was too late to make anything of that when I got back.”

She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. “Kitchen fire. Stupid thing. But it was enough. And—and they didn’t live long enough for me to get leave.”

Ward said nothing, letting her hold onto his hand and steady her breathing.

“Everything good in my life burns up,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s fire, Grant. Always fire.”

He took the hand she had let him hold and kissed it once, careful and soft.

“It’s okay, Melinda,” he promised. “I won’t ever burn you.”

“Idiot,” she said, blinking back tears. “You have a fever.”

He smiled. “You know what I mean.”

She did, and it terrified her. Because fire was not a thing of reason; it could not be held at bay with bullets or power or cleverness. If she burned him, she would suffocate under the ashes.

Even so.

She kissed him once, just on his forehead; simple and tender. Ward’s eyes glimmered when he looked up at her, like fish scales catching the light in a koi pond.

“Finish your tea,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Me neither,” he promised, taking in as much of the tea as he could before his eyelids drooped, his body slumping down as he sighed.

Melinda smoothed his hair back and helped him into bed, tucking him under the covers and rubbing his back until he drifted off, clinging to his pillow.

Melinda smiled at the sight of him before she got up and left, going down to the cockpit and taking a seat beside Phil. Phil flew the plane without a word, his smile enigmatic and thin when he saw her.

“We’re not kids, you don’t need to high-five me for this anymore,” Melinda said. Phil smiled.

“I would for a good hook up, maybe,” he said. “Relive the glory days. But—he’s a little more than that, isn’t he?”

Melinda said nothing. Phil shrugged. “You out of any of us know how to play with fire, Melinda. And he’s not that much of a burn, is he?”

“No,” she murmured. “He doesn’t burn at all.”

“Then you’re fine,” Phil said. “He might need another week or so, though. You’ll stay with him?”

“Unless I’m needed for combat,” she said. Phil smiled.

“Of course,” he said. “But I figured we could have a few paperwork days. We’ve got an enormous backlog.”

“Ugh,” she said with a sigh, wrinkling her nose and watching him smile. “Fine. But you’re teaching the kids to navigate the forms, not me.”

“Wouldn’t dare ask you,” Phil said with a little chuckle. “I’ll get it done, Melinda. You go take care of him. I doubt he’s had anyone do that in a long time.”

“Me too,” she said, rising from her seat and heading for the door. “Thanks, Phil.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “You know how this goes, well as I do.”

She smiled and shook her head, leaving and heading back down to the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she walked in and climbing into bed, throwing an arm over Ward as she curled against him. He sighed in his sleep and arched his back so she was closer.

Melinda smiled and kissed his shoulder, closing her eyes and sighing in pleasure.

Her dreams that night were of fish, and a pond as wide as her subconscious.

…

The next few days were largely spent rubbing Ward’s back when he puked and promising not to tell anyone that he cried from the pain.  Not that Melinda minded much. There was something sweet about seeing Ward so soft and vulnerable; the thrill of knowing no one else would ever see him that way certainly helped.

After the fifth day, his fever broke. Melinda spent the day with him, making him shower and scrubbing him clean and promising to help him back on his feet in the gym once he felt absolutely better.

On the sixth day, he stopped puking, much to the relief of Ward and Melinda both. His stomach and chest cramps still reduced him to tears, however, and so he let Melinda hold him and rub his back nonetheless. That was how they fell asleep that night; Melinda slumped against the headboard and Ward sprawled out in her lap, utterly at ease.

By the seventh day, Ward let Jemma look him over in the lab and run a few tests on him. Melinda waited outside until she was suddenly swept up in an enormous hug, Ward kissing her forehead with an enormous smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m not sick anymore.”

“I figured,” Melinda said with a smile, glaring at the trio, who had followed him out and were watching, wide-eyed. Ward nuzzled her forehead and beamed.

“So,” he said. “I can kiss you on the mouth now, right?”

“Grant, honestly—“

He cupped her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose. “Yes or no?”

Melinda paused before sighing and rolling her eyes. “The three of them have to go first.”

Ward turned around and shot a sharp look at the trio; they yelped and ducked into the lab. Ward smiled and turned back to her, his eyes bright and hopeful.

“Yes,” Melinda said with a smile, pulling him close and kissing him. Ward’s kiss was soft and warm, yielding and hesitant at first until she put her hands on his hips and brought him in closer. He started to kiss her back after that, running his tongue along her lips and stroking her hair.

His kiss burned without ashes, sparked without a flame, and made her shudder when he pressed himself closer against her, melting and trembling. Ward smiled into the kiss for a brief instant, like he knew.

Maybe he did, Melinda reasoned. She had told him, a confession of vulnerability to the vulnerable. Even now, when he held her close and she felt his strength, it didn’t seem to her that she’d made the wrong decision.

The two of them continued to hold one another when they broke apart, and when Ward whispered that he loved her in Chinese, she laid her head on his chest and traced a heart over the skin.

Ward held her tight and smiled, kissing her hair and letting her hold him close, squeezing his hands and keeping him beside her. The two of them were completely oblivious to the trio peering out of the lab window, Skye with her phone in hand, the recording light blinking a bright, cheerful red.


End file.
